


God Help The Outcasts

by Fanfictionwriter117



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Homelessness, Peasant Rumple, Princess Belle, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Woobie Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfictionwriter117/pseuds/Fanfictionwriter117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle comes to the aid of a poor spinner who is desperate to feed his young son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Help The Outcasts

Market day was always something Belle looked forward to. It was an opportunity to have a day to herself, unescorted, to do as she pleased. Her life in the palace was scheduled, timetabled and structured. It was a routine she was expected to follow as Princess but market day was one of the few times she could just relax and enjoy himself, no doubt bring back a handful of books to add to her vast and ever growing library.

The gates to the market were crowded, bustling with activity. As the merchants tended to their stalls and goods, patrons curiously looked at the produce for sale. They had everything from exotic herbs and spices from distant lands just arriving off ships coming into port to locally grown fruit, vegetables as well as the finest bred livestock. She loved the sounds of bargaining and laughter, the bleating of livestock, the blacksmith hammering, the chopping of meat at the butchers stall. She adored the aroma of freshly baked bread and the smell of meat, seasoned and roasting.

She smiled as vendors called to her, beckoning her to come and view what they had to offer. Glancing, she saw a stall selling embroidered rugs and carpets, each pattern a vibrant blend of colour while another sold clay amphorae filled with wine, olives and oil. She continued on her way, her heart set on purchasing a new book to add to her collection. She had always dreamed of seeing the world, beyond the pages of her books but she had a responsibility to her kingdom and her people.

The book stall was situated towards the end of the market displaying numerous leather bound manuscripts of all sizes. Reaching the stall, she looked over them, desire in her eyes. The merchant noticed, chuckling. “Anything you like, miss?" Belle smiled, picking up an old book of classical sonnets.

“How much?” She asked, clutching the book.

“One silver, miss.” She pulled out a silver coin from her purse, giving it to the man who thanked her, tipping his cap respectfully. Safely packing the book away in her satchel, she made her way back towards the centre of the market. As she looked around, she couldn't help but think there was something very natural about the atmosphere of the market. The baker kneaded his dough to make his bread, the butcher hacked at his meat before hooking them to hang, the fish monger sorted and gutted his fish and the tanner scraped the fat and sinew off the animal hides that would soon become fine leather. She was seeing different ways of life.

 _“Get out of my sight!”_ An irritated voice broke her from her thoughts as she looked around to see a man, very thin, leaning heavily on a wooden staff with a little boy, no older than eight years old standing behind him, clutching his tattered tunic tightly. As she came closer, she made out the man’s face. He had a smear of dirt across his forehead, his cheeks were sunken in and gaunt, indicating that he was clearly malnourished. His tunic was threadbare and worn, hanging loosely off his too thin frame and to Belle’s horror, exposed his ribs which were clearly visible from the front.

“Please sir, it-it's just for my boy.” He pleaded, holding the little one close to him. “He’s only a wee lad, see?” He indicated to the boy, his son, Belle now knew. The baker ignored him. The poor man hobbled forward, the boy shuffling with him. “Please sir, he’s hungry.” He was beyond desperate now. His little boy was hungry and he couldn't feed him. Unable to pay his taxes as no one would buy his wares, he and his boy had been evicted from their little hovel in their village. They wandered from village to market, surviving on the charity of others. It was no life for a child but he wouldn't abandon his son. He knew all to well what abandonment felt like.

“Hello, milady.” The baker greeted kindly, snapping the man out of his thoughts before turning his attention to him. “Move aside!” He commanded sharply, making the man shuffle aside timidly, letting Belle in front of him. "What can I get for you?" He asked, clasping his dough covered hands together. Belle looked over the extensive array of breads, cakes, tarts and buttered rolls.

“A fresh loaf of bread and six buttered rolls,” She ordered, trying her hardest not to look to where the man was standing, practically begging for scraps. The baker carefully packaged the food, handing it to her. She paid the man without another word, turning to leave. She looked around to see them walking away. He limped, leaning heavily against staff while his boy held onto his arm.

“Wait!” Belle shouted, getting their attention. She hurried over to them, noticing as he held his son into him protectively. She approached him slowly, a gentle smile on her face as she held out the package. He stared at it incredulously, clutching his walking stick even tighter. He knew what it was, what he didn't know was why she was holding it out to him.

“What-“

“Your son is hungry, and I'm sure you are too.” She could tell that it had been quite some time since he had ate a decent meal. She motioned for him to take it, smiling reassuringly. From the way he had been treated she wasn't surprised that he was nervous. “Take it,” she insisted gently, relief washing over her as he cautiously took the package from her, instantly smelling the freshly baked bread as well as the sweet butter rolls. He took a roll out of the bag and gave one to his son, who instantly began to eat with gusto. Giving the bag to his son, he ate his own, tears soon rimming his eyes as he did.

Fumbling to wipe them, he looked at Belle. "I-I can’t thank you enough, milady.”

“Belle,” she corrected gently. He nodded, eyes downcast. No one had spoken civilly to him in a long time so it made him uncomfortable. “What is your name?” She asked politely. He looked shocked when she asked, as though surprised she didn't know his name. Finishing the last of his roll, he swallowed heavily. "Rumplestiltskin," he answered. He had expected her to recoil, to look at him in disgust at the mention of his name but instead she treated him kindly, like an equal. She had never met him yet she bought them food, something he couldn't repay her for yet she asked nothing in return from him.

“It's nice to meet you, Rumplestiltskin.” She smiled pleasantly. He looked into her eyes, instinctively looking for pretence or falsehood having long become accustomed to hostility but all he found was kindness and compassion. Still tightly clutching his walking stick, he smiled shyly. “Papa?” He looked down at his son who yawned sleepily, lazily rubbing at his eyes. “I should get him home,” he sighed, holding the boy closer to his side. She had already done so much for them and the food she had given them meant he could provide for his boy for at least another day. She didn't need to know they were homeless or of his tarnished reputation. Lame and friendless, the only thing he had was his son and without his boy he was nothing.

Sensing his discomfort, she understood. He was a timid man, nervous and fearful. Those around him regarded with disgust and hostility. While she could see just how much his son meant to him, she feared that his son was the only thing he had.

“Then I will bid you farewell,” she said, extending her hand to him in respected parting, something also foreign to him. Looking at her outreached hand then back to her face, he swallowed, shifting his weight off his walking stick as he tentatively reached to clasp her hand with his. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, grateful eyes never leaving hers.

“Take care of your boy,” she said, gently prying her grip from his. He nodded, smiling humbly as she turned to leave. She made her way back towards the market’s entrance, not looking back but also not doubting Rumplestiltskin and his son had done the same in search of shelter as she felt raindrops begin to fall from the now blackened clouds; the indication of an approaching storm.

She just hoped they would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little idea I had in my head for a while before I had the chance to write it down, hope you enjoy! Also to my readers of 'You Came Back' & 'Heart of Hold' updates will be coming soon. They have not been abandoned x


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